Monday, 27 September 2010

DRESSING UP.

The cosmetic mask She wore was drawn on for the occasionOf their love making;Caked to imitate a tramp’s faceAnd taste better than a duchess’s looks,And dressed with tressesStretched back and bangled.

He wore a thick fake tanAnd on his manicured hands were ringsEspecially placed for their weight;Complementing the cutOf his pimp’s clothesUntil he was imposing enoughTo wetten the deadliest drought.

They tangled for a timeOn the mantled bed before he reddenedHer cheeks a little more With a sweet left hookAnd she beat the fuck out of his structuredAnd well proportioned torso,And then they fought some more.

War paint ran down Her stained glass face till you couldn’t tell Her bruises from the soup of her make up,And as the breaking of bended rulesContinued they took their tussles to the hot poolWhere, choked up on coke, they remainedUntil their water cooled.